


Hall Pass

by oonaseckar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, F/M, Gen, Infidelity, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, one week's free pass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22717774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonaseckar/pseuds/oonaseckar
Summary: It's the Hall Pass version of Teen Wolf!  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hall_Pass
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 4





	1. where did you sleep last night?

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is Leadbelly via Nirvana.

It's not something that's so very hard to understand. Stiles has grasped the basics, even in the two minutes since a sniggering, yet somewhat wistful and awed Boyd explained it to him, before dumping Scott beside Stiles and sauntering off to the lunch queue.

He's run through it once, too, with Scott. Who is sitting leaning, his head in his hands, looking like someone took away his teddy, or announced that Santa's joined a death metal group and will be handing out skulls and genetically enhanced toxoplasmosis for Chrimbo. Not that... Stiles can't control it. He leaps up on the bench, punches the air. 'Woo man! How do you do it! For once, I'll give you it, man, you have the _best girlfriend of all time!_ '

But he's getting some looks from the next table over, and the teachers' table isn't any too happy either, so they get a condensed, completely exculpatory explanation. 'He's got a free pass! His girlfriend just gave him a free pass! ONE WEEK'S FREE PASS!'

He reaches up to high five –- not to Scott, still moping down below, but to the room in general. And for once, it's with complete confidence that's he's not going to be left hanging.

He's almost crushed in the rush. The nearest table, first string hockey players and cheerleaders mostly, is denuded of pupils, as they storm over to leather his palm. He's thronged as if _he's_ the golden boy, even has to explain to a couple that no, it's definitely Scott who...

...who is still moping. As the crowd drift back, casting still-envious looks as Scott, Scott is still searching the floor for the villain who killed his puppy. It seems like, anyway.

Stiles sighs. He can understand, he really can. After this long at close quarters with Scott's sweet-natured sappiness, and after that with an entirely too close-up view of his and Allison's sugar-hypo inducing relationship, he really ought to be able to. Still he argues: it's, like, his duty as a _dude_ , even if he can still kind of see Scott's point of view. 'Seriously, man? You're seriously thinking of throwing away this beautiful opportunity Allison has seen fit to gift you with? You know how many guys dream –- only hopelessly dream –- of an eighteenth birthday present like this, before they go off to college?'

Scott just turns his head dolefully, where it rests heavy on his hands, leaning on his knees. 'Stiles, I don't _want_ to screw around. Why is Allison giving me a free pass to screw around? Doesn't she love me any more?'

Stiles would have been stumped: if he was less used to Scott's atypical _everything_. He slides down beside his buddy, and pats his hand sympathetically. 'That's not what it means, Scott. It's traditional, that's all: well, for lucky fucks like you, anyway. It's just... celebratory. It's about turning eighteen, and being legal, and how you can get down and, er, make sweet love and flourish your manhood around.' His forehead twists like he's trying to work out how that sentence has come to exist. Then shakes it away. 'And it's insurance, too. I know you two are twin souls and planning your split-level out in the suburbs and naming your kids already and all. But even if you don't subscribe to it, Allison may feel like you should both--' and that's where he stops at the sudden splurt and pop-eyed alarm on Scott's face, accompanied by all the blood in his body obviously rushing to his face. 'Er,' he hastily continues, "what I obviously mean to say is, she feels _you_ , yes _you_ should, er, play the field a bit. Even if just enough so that you know you want to commit your body and soul to her in perpetual bliss and rot in monogamous, er, yeah, you get the idea.'


	2. 'scott's tiny little sandwich'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, no-one knows how Scott suffers.

Scott eyes him a moment – like Satan incarnate, like _he's_ the one obliging Scott to consider fornicatory hobbies and workgroups with non-Allison type peeps. Then Stiles gets the feeling he's getting an extremely conditional benefit of the doubt, as Scott says, 'Well. I don't wanna. But she says I gotta.' He pouts. 'I don't get what the celebration's about, anyway. I mean, it's not as if we haven't already--'

'And LA LA LA LA LA LA LA,' Stile agrees, fingers in his ears. 'Don't tell me, man, don't want to know, keep your sexy shenanigans to yourself. Completely. You over-sexed nympherotic perverts. I don't want to have to lie to your mom if she asks me if I know for sure you've been up to no good. Because I can't, so you'd be up shit creek on a surfboard. Or, worse, your mom is going to take you to Planned Parenthood, and have _discreet tactful confidential discussions_ with you.'

'Like you can talk, Lolita,' Scott jeers. 'Derek going to give you a free pass anytime soon? Or is dementia setting in for your dirty old daddy-figure?'

Stiles actually is sucking on a lollipop right now, which he is abruptly in a fever to dispose of. 'Shut _up_. And no, there'll be no free-pass-having with me and Derek. And our entirely _normal healthy relationship_ in which _no-one_ gets called Daddy, Scott, no-one. Except when the asshole wins at bowling, and we _all_ have to call him big-daddy bowling champion.' He pauses, thinking so loud it's audible. 'Although, wait. You are only eighteen once. Oh, fuck it, just this once I will allow it. Yeah, I'll gift Der a one-day free pass and you can sample the delights on offer, man. See, the extent of my fraternal love? You're not getting near _my_ ass, though, Scott, man. That would be incest, which isn't on my list.'

Scott isn't worrying about Stiles' ass. He's too busy screwing up his face and climbing up off the bench, slowly moving away like he fears pursuit. 'Derek? I don't want anything to do with Derek! Or his ass! Or yours for that matter! Seriously, this is fucked up, dude. I'm going to go find Allison and try to get her to reconsider. She can't _make_ me be sexually free and open and curious when I want – I want -'

He struggles, and Stiles stares at him resignedly. 'To hump your honey spoony-style in cuddly monogamous bliss till you're both too saggy and wrinkly for anyone else to be interested anyway?'

Scott has his hands over his ears in genuine distress, and he's out of there, out of the refectory wailing, with tables full of lacrosse-boys staring at the gilded dude in mystification. Stiles shakes his head, and that's when Boyd makes it back over, slurping coffee and looking after Scott curiously.

'He's not happy?' he asks, brow raised like it's a mystery of the universe. It pretty much is. Scott and Allison's love is _ineffable_. Sometimes also emetic.

But Stiles has confidence. 'We'll bring him round. Allison's relying on us. Imagine, one week and we've got to try to expand his tiny little sandwich into a smorgasbord of sexual delights.'

Boyd looks at him oddly, and they both look down at the sub in Boyd's hand. 'Metaphor, man,' Stiles shrugs. 'You distracted me.'

'I don't want to know about Scott's tiny little sandwich,' Boyd says, and actually looks anxious.

'You may be going to get to know it a lot better,' Stiles says, and claps him on the shoulder.


End file.
